Poseidon's Bride
by Queen of all things-oh a bird
Summary: From the Author who brought you Stupid Fan Girl, comes a story of love, loss, loyalty, bravery, and friendship and let's not forget piracy . Join Captain Jack Sparrow on his quest to find the Fountain of Youth, and the people who get dragged along.Review!
1. Prologue

**From the Academy acclaimed... Ah! Who am I kidding?... From the Author who brought you _Stupid Fan Girl_, comes a story of love, loss, loyalty, bravery, and friendship (and let's not forget piracy). Join _Captain_ Jack Sparrow on his quest to find the Fountain of Youth, and the people who get dragged along.**

* * *

"...in a single day and night of misfortune, the island of Atlantis disappeared into the depths of the sea."

The storm waged war on the firm and steady houses of Nassau. The turquoise waters of the Bahamas continually crashed on the docks, knocking off bits of wood with each wave of fury. Bearing its electric fangs of lightning, the raging storm roared with thunder and howled as the winds swept through the empty streets, unable to shake the buildings. The streets were dark, as everyone was home asleep. There was only one light glistening through the window of a decent size house. Inside, sitting by the candle light sat two people, a child and a young woman.

"Hey mum," a raspy little voice spoke up. "Do you think Atlantis really exists?" In the small bed in the middle of the room lay a small, sick little boy at the age of four. Sitting next to him with a book in her hands was his mother. Her curly red hair fluttered slightly as she turned from the book to look into the questioning blue eyes of her son. A smile graced her lips; making her all the more beautiful. You could see a dying light in her eyes. Her aura gave off a hopeless feel, all the while smiling sweetly.

"It might have existed at one time or another," she said, turning back to the book. "According to the story, it was destroyed in an earthquake so there's no telling if it still does or not. It has yet to be discovered, so I'll just as well assume it does." She said, her smile not once ever leaving her lips.

"If I ever get better," said the raspy little voice of the boy, Chris, "I want to be the one to discover it. I'll sail to the edges of the world and beyond if I have to!" He suddenly gave into a fit of coughs. His mother's smile vanished as she placed a hand on his chest while the other caressed his little face. His cough subsided with a moan of pain. He stared up at his mother, breathing heavily from the forced activity. "If I don't get better, mommy, will you discover Atlantis for me?"

His mother's eyes flew open in horror at his words. _If I don't get better, mommy..._

"Don't talk like that," she scolded gently. "You will get better." Her confidence resounded through the room, reassuring the little boy, but he was still afraid.

"Mommy, promise you'll discover Atlantis for me," he said. He felt something wet fall on his hand. He was quick to realize his mother was crying.

"Yes Chris," she said as she smiled once more, but the tears continued to fall, despite her efforts. "I promise I'll find Atlantis for you." She leaned forward and her lips met with his warm forehead. "Now, go to sleep, okay?" His head bobbed slightly as he quietly mumbled a yes. His mother gently tucked him in and blew out the candle.

"Good night Chris," she whispered as she stepped towards the door.

"G'night mommy," he whispered in return.

"I love you," she said softly as she stood at the door. He looked at her and smiled.

"I love you too," he said before he heard the door close. His mother stood in front of the door for a few moments. Her eyes were shaded by her hair so even in the light of the bright bolts of lightning her expression was hard to read. Beside the door hung a painting of a young man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes identical to that of the little boy Chris. His jacket was red with metals and such trinkets adorning it, indicating his stature in the Royal Navy. This young man was the boy's father who had disappeared not but a few months before Chris's birth.

She suddenly looked up at the painting with tears in her eyes. She gently touched the painting as if her touch would bring him to life. "Joseph..." She turned and walked away, her silky blue night gown rustling gracefully as she walked. The floor boards creaked with every step she took. She rubbed her arms as a chill settled in her bones. She feared the worst for her little boy, but she was not ready to give up hope. She gave a silent prayer, begging for her son to return to the happy, carefree boy she knew, before the accident. She opened the door to her room and quickly lit a match to light a candle. She let out a sigh as the warm glow from the candle seemed to chase away her fears as it did to the shadows. She knew better then to think that they had in fact left.

Her fears were as real as the shadows that danced on the walls as the flame on the candle stick squirmed with every movement in the air. This young mother of a four year old boy had once been the happiest woman in Nassau, before her husband was called to duty in the Navy. He had not been seen since.

Now, her little boy was sick. Not but a few weeks ago, that same little boy had been running down the halls. A couple weeks ago, a friend of her husbands had offered to give the boy a small dagger. She had refused. In his anger, Chris had run off into the rain with his mother hot on his heels. He ran all the way to the beach. The ocean was calling to him, as it did to those who longed to sail its treacherous waters. He was one of those few like his father before him, and his mother was the only thing holding him back. He didn't know why she didn't like the sea. She had never bothered to tell him why, but as he waded out into the on coming waves in the pouring rain, he could hear his mother weeping for his safe return. He paid them no mind until several pairs of strong hands brought him back to shore and into his mother's waiting arms. It wasn't long before he showed signs of a cold: the coughs, the wheezing, and the fever. For about a week, these symptoms lasted. When the doctor took a look at the boy, that same cold escalated into something worse, pneumonia.

She had been devastated by this news and started having nightmares over her son's sickness. Her husband calling to her, asking her why she had let such a tragedy happen to their son. She cried herself to sleep every night for several weeks after the discovery of her son's illness. It was almost like when she found out that the _Persecutor_, her husband's ship, had mysteriously disappeared.

Another flash as a bolt of lightning clawed at the sky as another portrait became visible to her eyes: the portrait she had drawn of her older sister when she was younger. She had been sent off to marry a rich aristocrat when her ship had vanished. Now both her sister and her husband had been claimed by the treacherous waters of the sea.

She felt the crack in her heart grow a little bigger when she thought of her long lost husband. Their wedding had been a beautiful one. Her white dress had been hand made in China and was made of silk with pearls decorating the skirt of her dress. It was her mother's. He had worn is red navy jacket at her request and she thought he looked absolutely wonderful in his Naval garb. The same jacket that was seen in the picture by the door to Chris's room.

She slowly shook her head as she emptied her mind of her thoughts and memories. She rested her head against her pillow as she pulled the covers over herself. In a quick breath, the candle was out. She needed to rest now... just rest.

***

_"Meredith?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"I was going to ask if you loved me or not, but I can see it in your eyes."_

_"Joseph, do you doubt me?"_

_"Not even for a second! I just want to hear it from your mouth."_

_"I love you Joseph."_

_"I love you, too."_

_"Do you think we'll be together forever?"_

_"Why wouldn't we?"_

_"What if fate doesn't agree with our union?"_

_"Now, my dear, don't tell me you believe such nonsense!"_

_"Be serious, Joseph."_

_"If we were not meant to be together, then so be it. Just promise me one thing."_

_"Yes, Joseph?"_

_"That you will always be happy, even if we are apart."_

***

She shot out of bed at one simple sound coming from the room down the hall. Chris was coughing terribly loud. Fearing the worst, she shot out of bed and fled down the hall. He was coughing consistently. He was coughing up greenish phlegm. She sat by his side, and held him close. She wasn't about to let him go.

"_Do you think we'll be together forever?"_

"Chris!" cried his mother. She put her hand to his forehead and her eyes widened in fear. He was burning up. "Sarah, get the doctor!" Since Chris had been sick for several weeks, the doctor stayed at their house to help care for him. It wasn't long before he was in the room checking on Chris. After several minutes the cough had died down, but his extremely high fever remained in place, and his pulse was irregular.

"Mommy," he moaned. "I don't want to die."

"Don't worry, you'll be okay!" she cried. She grasped his hand as if he might disappear before her eyes. His breathing slowed and his voice sounded as though he were in pain. She felt her own heart beat slowing down with his as all other sounds, the wailing of the maids, the pounding of the rain, it all just seemed to fade away.

"I didn't... even get to meet daddy..." he whispered.

"Ma'am," the doctor whispered in her ear, bringing her back to reality, even if only for a moment... "I'm afraid I've done all I can do."

"Mommy!" Chris cried, tears pouring from his eyes and into his ears. She could feel a pain in her chest welling up with it. It made her feel sick. "It hurts!"

"Don't worry!" she repeated, for both him and for herself. "It'll stop hurting!" His breath began to slow as did his pulse. His mother was crying brutally. She couldn't bear to lose her son as well.

"…_Just promise me one thing…"_

"Mom, you're right," he said softly. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"…_Just promise me one thing…"_

"Chris, please stay with me!" she cried out. It sounded like she was miles away. Slowly, the world began to fade away, along with his worries, his cares, the entire world faded away, with nothing but his mother's sobs to loll him to a deep, never ending sleep. All the while, his mother crying his name.

"…_promise…"_

"Chris!" she cried. She picked up the body of her now dead child and held him close. "Don't leave me!" she sobbed.

"…_one thing…"_

"Mrs. Madison," said the doctor as he put his things away. "I am truly sorry."

Whether she heard him or not, she continued to sob with her dead child in her arms. The maids of the household wept by her side. Even the stern faced butler had a few tears running down his face. What kind of fate was this for any small child? Sarah, the head maid, put her arms around her mistress.

"I-I had planned on... marrying and raising a family," Mrs. Madison said through her sobs. Her world was spinning out of control. The smiling faces of her son, husband, and older sister spinning around in her mind. She could picture the three of them laughing and having a wonderful time, without her. The picture shattered and all that was left was utter darkness, engulfing every fiber of her being. She felt she would never over come such a devastatingly powerful emotional blow.

Only one thing remained in her drowning consciousness.

"…_promises… promise… promise… Promise!"_

The promises she had made to both of them.

***

_Let it begin…_

The storm had passed, and all that had been left in its wake was a bright sun and nary a cloud in the sky. On this bright day, the town of Nassau was dark and gloomy. The bustling of townsfolk could be heard from miles away. In the back of everyone's mind, however, they knew of the Madison tragedy. At the local church, a funeral was being held. A young boy had died the night before. His mother was, of course one of the few men and women there. Tears were continually streaming down her face, and she made no move to wipe them away.

_Do you believe yet?_

Not a word was spoken as the coffin was carried out to the grave site. His mother watched as they buried him beneath the ground her heart on the verge of shattering forever. All of their closest relatives and friends had come for the funeral. One particularly close friend of her husbands approached her.

_Living with yourself forever…_

"I'm sorry," he said. She didn't turn. She didn't speak; just stared at the spot her son was buried. Only one thing kept her breathing.

"_Mommy, promise you'll discover Atlantis for me!"_

She shivered, rubbing her arms with her hands. The sea had once again claimed an innocent life of one of her loved ones. She cursed herself and the sea, but at the same time, she knew it was now her only refuge in her sorrowful world. She had nothing to gain here in Nassau, nor did she have anything to lose by leaving it. After several hours of staring at the stone, she finally walked away.

_Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate…_

She got home and picked up the book she had been reading to him the night before. She held it close to her as the tears came one last time.

_Once I recover, I'll find it! I'll keep my promise._

_Sometimes the right course demands an act of piracy…_

_

* * *

_

**I would like to thank the Acedemy... Stupid dreams... I would like to thank my beta readers (since they did most of the work) for destroying everything I threw at them and sending me back the ashes. Lady Merlin and WargishBoromirFan** **for a fantastic job at doing what I asked them to. Be sure to leave a review! Please? Oh! I'll leave a poll as to whether or not I should continue.**


	2. The Stowaway

_Dear God,_

"Father, getting me a ship all the way from London was not necessary. Any ship around here or even the Caribbean would have been fine." The salty sea air of the Bahamas was calm this morning.

_Do I have a purpose here? Did you give me life for a reason?_

"Nonsense! If you're going on an expedition such as this, you might as well go in style." Sitting proudly by the docks of Nassau was the mighty _Grand Duchess_. She had come all the way from London to pick up one very ill-fated traveler. The majestic ship swayed ominously as the turquoise waves rocked her gently. Though the winds were fairly calm, the captain was making his calls and shouting his orders as his crew scurried to get everything put away and secure. The small family of said traveler stood next to the magnificent ship as merchants and sailors looked up in awe.

_You gave humanity the ability to love. What is it for? You gave us life… What…_

Meredith kept a safe distance away from the edge of the docks as she said her good-byes to her family. The father, a broad shouldered man, had a very gentle face. His light brown hair had silver streaks running through it; he was not a man for the powdered wigs of the day. His old gray eyes had a tender, loving glow to them. He was a man who had led the hard life of a merchant sailor from England. He had dealt with pirates, sickness, and all manner of afflictions. In the end, he had been a very successful businessman; because of that, he had been determined to teach his children the value of hard work, but after the death of his eldest daughter, son-in-law, and grandson, he wanted to spoil Meredith just a little.

_Is…_

"I don't believe it! My baby's going on adventure!" Her mother had tears running down her face with a handkerchief in her hand. It was fairly comical sight to see for any bypassing stranger to witness even considering her violent sobs as she clung to her daughter. The older woman's father had been a rich and powerful man, and she had been spoiled because of that. Some said that her union with the man who was now her husband was merely for monetary reasons. She and her husband had allegedly married simply because they loved each other, but time quickly revealed to him her weaknesses and her foolishness. He often teased her, and she did not take to his teasing well, which only humored him more, another reason he did not spoil his children often… to annoy her. "Be careful, Meredith."

_It…_

Meredith embraced her mother. "Yes, mother, I will." She released her weeping mother who quickly found the strong, gentle arms of her husband. Meredith smiled tenderly as she turned to the young man standing next to her parents. A tall, stocky boy of nineteen, her younger brother's birth had not been a planned one, but he was still loved and adored as much as the girls had been. His bright, unruly red hair rustled slightly in the wind. He was trying to pretend he wasn't part of the family next to him, and that he was just a stranger standing at the docks. It didn't work as Meredith flung her arms around his neck and pulled him into a bear hug.

_For?_

"Choking… not breathing!" he gasped melodramatically. She smiled over his shoulder. After a few moments of struggling, he gave up and swallowed his pride. "If I lose you as well, I'll never forgive you," he whispered as he reluctantly put his arms around her. His face was as red as the Navy coat he was wearing, embarrassed to be hugged by his older sister. She swiftly released him from her death grip before giving him a grateful smile.

As she turned to step up the gangplank, she took a deep breath. She had only been on a ship once, and that was when she was about twelve when they went to visit her mother's parents in London. The whole time she had been seasick. Now, she could only wonder what the rocking of the waves beneath her feet would do to her.

She took an audible gulp of air and stepped up the gangplank. The Captain was waiting for her as she boarded. He was a friend of her late husband, and he had been more than happy to assist the wife of his good friend. Even after five years, Meredith found she could still lean on the invisible support of her husband, even though he was gone.

"Welcome aboard the _Grand Duchess_, Mrs. Madison," he said. "Allow me to show you to your cabin."

With her brown bag in hand, she gave a nod. "Thank you." She took one wobbly step forward and immediately felt sick from the rocking of the ship. She began to fall when the Captain caught her.

"Don't have your sea legs yet do you?"

"I don't think I ever will have them," she commented spitefully. He smiled as she attempted to stand and, eventually, walk on her own. He helped her to her cabin. She had a hard time accepting his help, but eventually came to terms that she would never get used to the feeling of the floor beneath her constantly in motion.

"Here's where you'll be staying," he said as he opened the door. It was well carpeted with luxurious furniture. The chairs and bed were fluffed with red velvet with a mahogany wooden table on the left of the room. "Do you like it?"

"I wish he didn't do this," she said referring to her father.

"Too much?" asked the Captain, sounding as if he agreed with it.

"Yes, too much," she said. She smiled gratefully at him, signaling for him to leave, and he took the hint and left. She smiled at the room. This was not like her father to try to spoil her, but since the death of her husband and… she guessed he thought to spoil her just a little. Through her childhood, her father had taught her well that hard work pays off for the things you want most. There were things you had to work for, like Joseph's love.

She remembered when he had first arrived to Nassau Port from Carolina. The women were fainting left and right as he walked through the town towards the Navy base. She had been the only woman who didn't swoon at his feet, which perked his interest. That might have been because she had her nose in a book. She took pride in her learning and she was not about to allow some good looking Navy Lieutenant distract her from that. Their courting had been long and down right treacherous, for they found they had little to agree on.

* * *

"_There he is!" The whispers of the young ladies flew across the room like the beating wings of a dozen birds. Their excitement came upon the arrival of a fairly handsome young man. The party had been arranged to welcome the newest members of the Royal Navy, and there was one in particular that had the ladies swooning before his arrival._

"_That's him!" cried one of the many young maidens. "That's Joseph Madison! Isn't he the most handsome man you've ever seen?" Standing next to her was a young woman with red hair and sharp green eyes. She sniffed at him. She had met him previously to this, and he had been less then courteous to her._

"_I give him his credit for being handsome," she said. "However, let me assure you, he does not have a personality to match."_

"_There was a rumor that you two had met previously;" said another young woman "is that true?"_

"_Yes, we met at Mr. Robinson's book store. My father let's me go down there every now and again, and I suppose he was just out on patrol or something," she said casually, almost as if the meeting had no affect on her. "He was critical of what I was reading, but in the most vulgar manner I've ever experienced."_

"_Surely not," cried the first. "I've heard that he is the most polite of all the young men in the Navy! Perhaps you took his criticism to heart and thought it disrespectful of him."_

_They immediately shushed each other when they saw him approaching them. Meredith raised her head. She wasn't about to swoon at the feet of this young man. She was determined to prove that she was not moved by sheer good looks. It took more then that._

"_Miss Perry, I presume," he said with an amused smile stretched across his handsome features. This only made Meredith all the more frustrated with him. She narrowed her eyes only slightly._

"_Yes," she replied snippily. The other young ladies seemed to gasp at her behavior. Surely, she was not insane?!_

"_I'm afraid we got off on the wrong foot the other day," he said his smile only growing wider._

"_Yes, well, if I recall, I was minding my own business reading a title from one of my favorite authors when you decided to curtly criticize my particular interests." The other ladies knew instantly the game he was playing with her; though it was obvious she did not see it as a game._

"_Let me apologize for my uncouth behavior the other day," he said trying to suppress the fit of laughter growing in his throat. She really was easy to tease. The music started to play, and soon there were people on the floor dancing._

"_May I have this dance, Miss Perry?" he asked her with a slight bow. She was reluctant, but decided to amuse her friends at least._

"_Yes," she said, offering her hand. He took it and gracefully led her to the dance floor._

* * *

She looked out the window to see nothing but the bright blue ocean staring back at her. She stepped over and closed the curtains so she would not have to face it anymore.

"_Promise me…"_

She sat down on the bed and opened her bag. She took out a notebook her older sister had given to her one Christmas. It was leather bound and beautiful. Her sister, Isabelle, had given it to her to put her best artwork in. The last thing she had put in it was a drawing of her—of Joseph's—son playing at the beach.

"Joseph," she whispered, her voice cracking ever so slightly. "I don't think… I was meant for happiness."

When she felt well enough which took a little while, she went back up on deck to watch the men prepare to make sail. The Captain shouted his orders as the sails were released. As if on cue, the wind picked up to carry the ship off to its destination. She ran up to the upper deck where she could get a better look at her home town. Slowly, the _Grand Duchess_ slipped away from Nassau Port.

No one noticed the small dinghy on the port side of the bowsprit.

_

* * *

_

Later that night…

Nathan, or Nate as he was called by his fellow crew members, was just looking for some cooking oils for the cook to use. Assisting his search, the first mate, Abram, moved a crate full of meat aside to find something he was not expecting to find. Sleeping behind said crate was a man. His hat covered his forehead and eyes, but the gun and the sword on his belt told another, more dangerous story. Abram tapped Nate's shoulder and beckoned him over. Both of them knew this man was not a member of their crew.

"On the count of three, we jump him. You take his weapons away and then we'll both haul him to the Captain," whispered Abram. Nate nodded and rolled up his sleeves.

"One, two-"

"Three!" The man suddenly shouted, jumped up, and pulled out his sword. Nate and Abram snatched out their swords, ready to fight him if need be.

"Can either of you gents tell me where this pretty boat—ship is headed?" he asked innocently. Abram glared at the stranger.

"Why? You headin' somewhere?" he asked. The stranger feigned offense to his question.

"Can't a man ask a simple question without getting a question for an answer?" Abram glared at the stranger.

"I don't know. You tell me." He could tell this guy was sly. He needed to warn the Captain to protect Mrs. Madison.

"Touché."

"We don't know where we're headed," Abram lied. Nate decided to remain silent and be on his guard. The stranger shook his head and waved his finger in a tsk, tsking manner. This made Abram growl ever so slightly.

"You look like a First Mate to me," he said as he approached Abram, his sword at the ready. "The First Mate should know where this ship is headed, being second in command."

"It doesn't matter where we're headed," said Abram. "Soon as you're in the brig, you'll be dropped off at the next port, and we'll be on our way." Abram launched on the offensive. The stranger parried the attack and followed it up with an attack of his own. Abram parried and swiped at his opponent who barely managed to dodge.

Nate then jumped into the fight, hungry for some action aboard the ship. The stranger parried his attack as he dodged another one of Abram's. The stranger found himself outnumbered and tried making a run for it. Abram ran after him with Nate hot on his heels. Unfortunately for the stranger, he had run straight into the rest of the crew who were on their way to the galley. He made a sharp turn around only to find Abram and Nate coming up fast.

As the rest of the crew drew their swords and guns, the stranger dropped his sword and held his hands up. "Parley?"

* * *

It was a normal, balmy morning in the Bahamas. The _Grand Duchess_ had set sail around noon the day before and the commotion aboard it seemed almost relentless. Watching the crew work had been fairly enjoyable at first, Meredith had even drawn a little to capture a few moments, but even that had become boring quickly. It was good to know that she was not as seasick as she had been in her childhood, but that did not mean she stopped having the need to bend over the side of the ship every few minutes. She stepped out onto the deck, yawned, and looked around… not that there was anything to look at; just tons and tons of water in every direction. She watched the crew work on getting the ship going again and noticed that they seemed a little tense. She turned to the first mate for information.

"Excuse me, Mister Taylor," she said.

"Call me Abram, ma'am."

"Abram, why do the men look so tense, did something happen last night?" He stared at her for a moment in disbelief. Had she not been informed by the captain?

"Yes, there was a stowaway found on board," he said. "He was dangerous, so the captain had him thrown in the brig." Her eyes widened for a moment, before she nodded and turned to study the crew once more. She looked up at the captain, who was currently discussing things with the boson while at the helm. Although slightly upset, she figured that the captain had a perfectly good reason for not telling her. Plus, stowaways were not uncommon, so there was really no need to worry over it.

After a few moments of searching for something to do and finding nothing, she headed down below. Perhaps the stowaway was civilized enough for conversation.

* * *

"_Well, that could have gone much better."_

"_Care to state again why we stowed away on this ship?"_

"_That dinghy was getting much too cramped for all of us. At least here, we have some room to breathe. Besides, stowing away was not part of the plan. The ship was sailing before our opportune moment occurred."_

"_Stab the heart…"_

"_You're still on about that then?"_

"_Don't stab the heart…"_

"_Oi!"_

It was getting very difficult to ignore these illusions of himself. Ever since he had landed himself… Correction, ever since that charming murderess landed him in Davy Jones'—now called Will Turner's—locker; he had been seeing a multitude of different versions of himself.

A lot more then dying had happened to him in the last couple—give or take a little—of years. He had lost the _Pearl _a second time to his first mate. The first time it had been burned by the EITC. He chased after his mutinous first mate for ten years before he finally found the break he had been looking for, and it just happened to be around the neck of the one who would end up sending him to his death. A young girl about the age of twenty or so had the medallion hanging from her pretty little neck.

After saving the girl (oh, the irony), he met with part two of his lucky break, the Whelp. The Whelp had not been very friendly, at first (what with the love of his life being threatened and all), but he gradually warmed (oh very slowly at first). After the pirate ship—_his_ pirate ship—attacked Port Royal, all of that changed. The Whelp, desperate to save his bonnie lass, came crawling to the Port Royal prison to ask _him _for assistance, like _Captain_ Jack Sparrow offers his help for free. After coming up with a deal, nothing too complex (which was a good thing for Will's sake), he and the whelp commandeered the naval vessel, the _Interceptor_, and headed for Tortuga for a crew.

Through a series of strange and unprecedented circumstances, he managed to retrieve his beloved _Pearl _back, and destroy the man who had taken her away, even though said man had returned to the living, which was _not_ the point. Whelp saves girl, or perhaps it was the other way around, and the rest is, as they say, history. What the girl saw in the eunuch was still a mystery to him, even to this point as he sat in the brig of the merchant vessel, the _Grand Duchess_.

About one year later, he found himself running for his life from Davy Jones and his terrible beastie, the Kraken. At first, he tried to find shelter on land; that idea proved to be a bad one since he had landed himself with the Pelegostos. The whelp had found him and started shouting about the girl being in prison for aiding his escape or something like that. Instead of giving the Eunuch what he was demanding (was he really expecting anything more?), he sort of turned the tables and had the Whelp press-ganged onto the _Flying Dutchman._ Perhaps that had been some sort of foreshadowing for the future. Irony and foreshadowing, his life was full of it all.

No sooner had he arrived in Tortuga (to get more souls to give to Davy Jones) that the other thing—person—he needed appeared and also started demanding things from him. Didn't anyone ever learn? He had been quite pleased to see her, in more ways then one. At the time, he had felt a strange attraction to the girl since their first meeting, when he had saved her life from the clutches of that corset. After she had discovered his simple omissions about several things (like the whelp's "accidental" press-ganging, as an example), she used his attraction (not that he knew how she found out about that anyway…) to her own, evil advantage… and killed him.

He shook his head; the trinkets woven in his hair ringing with every turn of his head. The three illusions of himself turned to him questioningly.

"_What are you shaking your head about?"_

"_Stab the heart…"_

"_Will you shut up?!"_

"_Don't stab the heart…"_

"_That ship sailed a month and a half ago, give it a rest already!"_

"_Stab the heart…"_

"All of you go away!" he shouted finally. His words echoed off the walls of the brig, and he was quick to realize that his illusions were gone; not that they were ever there in the first place. He brought his bejeweled hand to his face and rubbed it. He was really beginning to despise that charming murderess. Thankfully, the illusions (or whatever you wish to call them) were becoming fewer and far in between. That's when he heard something he did not expect: the door was opening. He peered between his fingers to see who had been kind—or foolish—enough to come visit him.

* * *

Needless to say, there was a tension of sorts in the air when their eyes met. An anxiety neither of them quite fully understood. Both of them sat there, one daring the other to make the first move or say the first word. Meredith studied the man for a moment. He had unruly black hair with beads and trinkets woven into his dreadlocks. He had all sorts of belts wrapped and buckled around his waist and his shirt and boots looked well worn. He seemed to be what her mother would describe as an uncivilized man and what her father would describe as a pirate.

He also took his time studying her. She was not the prettiest thing he had seen, but she did share a certain amount of beauty with the many women he had come across over the years. She had wavy red hair that reached past her shoulders and flowed gracefully down her back. She had a slightly pale complexion, as was common among red heads. Her dress was fairly simple, practical attire to go sailing in. However, from the way she held her frame which was in no way voluptuous he noticed, she was obviously from the rings of the higher society. What really caught his attention, though, were her eyes. They were as green as the leaves of palm trees and they held an unusual light. They say that the eyes are the window to one's soul after all.

He was certain that he did not want to look into her eyes again. The pain they held was too great, and he was not one for painfully sad emotions.

"So," he said as he lay back to avoid looking into her eyes again, "to whom do I owe the pleasure of such a lovely visit?"

"Meredith Madison," she replied. Her voice seemed to ring in his ears like church bells. "May I ask who you are?"

"You most certainly may," he said. She rolled her eyes at his smart comment.

"So who are you?" she continued.

"You can call me Smith, or Smithy if you like."

"Okay, Mister Smith, what is it you're doing on the _Grand Duchess_?"

"What does it matter to you?"

"I'm just trying to make polite conversation," she said, a little offended by his attitude. "The least you could do is converse with me a little."

"_Translation: she only came to see you because she was bored…"_ He fought the urge to shout at the tiny illusion of himself on his shoulder. He let out a small sigh. Time started ticking away as the two just sort of stared off into space searching for something to talk about. The atmosphere was heavy with tension.

"What do you think of her?" Meredith finally spoke. He looked up at her questioningly. "The _Grand Duchess,_ I mean."

"She's probably the second or third finest ship I've seen," he said casually.

"Oh? What ship would you consider the finest?" she questioned curiously.

"The _Black Pearl_," he said nonchalantly. It wasn't like any ship would ever be a match for the _Pearl_, except the _Dutchman._ He grit his teeth at the memory of what when aboard that ship and immediately dispelled it from his mind. Meredith had heard of that ship before. There were a lot of rumors about it down in Nassau.

"That's a pirate ship," she noted. "Are you a pirate?"

"Can't say I am," he replied. "I could be one if you'd like me to?"

"No thank you," Meredith sniffed. "I want nothing to do with pirates." She had managed to avoid them thus far, and she wasn't about to start getting involved with them.

"Well, that's a darn shame," he muttered.

"What?" she asked, not sure if she heard him correctly.

"Nothing."

"What ship would you say was the second finest, if not the _Grand Duchess_?"

"I would have to say," he said as he fiddled with the beads in his beard, "the _Interceptor_. Though, I do believe that she was sunk by the _Black Pearl._"

"I had heard that a pirate named Jack Sparrow had single handedly commandeered it right from underneath the navy," she mused.

"You heard correct," he said. _Mostly._

Meredith fell silent. She had a strong connection to the navy. Her husband had been a lieutenant. Any talk of the Royal Navy depressed her because her husband was the first thing that came to her mind. He sensed this and looked at her. She had her head down, and the tension in the room had thickened.

"My intuitive sense of the female creature informs me that you are troubled," he said.

"No," she lied. "I'm fine." He decided not to push his luck with her.

Neither of them spoke after that. After several of moments of silence, she decided to take her leave, but as she closed the door she thought she heard him say something.

"Looks like our luck is about to change."

* * *

**Hopefully chapters will be coming out faster. I did promise my beta readers I wouldn't upload until I had their permission, but it looks like I'm going to have to break that promise. I think three betas are enough, right? Review please.**


	3. Dejá vu

The sun started changing as it began its daily routine, a slow descent behind the blue horizon. The invading colors of blue and purple chased needlessly after the slowly disappearing rays of sunlight. Meredith watched the sky as the sun disappeared beneath the ocean. It's glorious light reflecting in her eyes, as though she were hypnotized by its beauty. She let out a deep breath as she stared at the golden colors of the sunset. Behind her, Abram approached her cautiously with his hands folded respectfully behind his back.

"Pardon me, Mrs. Madison," he said, "but the captain has ordered me to ask you if you will join him for supper." For a moment or two, she did not respond. When she finally turned to him and spoke, he found his breath caught in his throat and his chest start to pound for he could have sworn that he was looking at a saint, a saint who had just watched the crucifixion of the Christ.

"Tell him that I would be honored to dine with him tonight," she said. Abram nodded slightly, his eyes wide with awe. He almost thought he did not have the will to walk away until he finally found his feet and started to move in the direction of the captain's cabin. As he opened the door, he turned to look back at her. She had turned back around to look at the sunset.

Meredith waited until she heard the door open and close before letting out a soft sigh. She maintained her safe distance from the railing as she wondered over the ocean's massive size. She pondered why so many of her loved ones were attracted to its deep blue depths and wide open horizon. She did not understand how some people thought this barren desert was the most beautiful thing on the planet. She finally turned away from it and headed into the cabin as the boards beneath her feet creaked with every swell.

She entered the cabin just as the rest of the crew was bringing in food and placing it on the table. The captain looked up from his desk and stood to greet her. His eyes held a certain amount of adoration for her.

"Meredith," he cleared his throat, "I mean, Mrs. Madison."

"Captain Bentley," she replied gracefully.

"Please, have a seat." He motioned for the table and moved her seat so that she could sit down. His seat creaked slightly as he pulled out for him to sit. They gave grace before eating. They ate in silence for a while when the captain decided to start a conversation. "Are you enjoying your stay aboard the _Grand Duchess_?"

"I am, thank you," she replied with a polite smile. "How is your family? The children well without their mother?"

"Yes, they are fine according to the letters their governess has them send every month. I trust your family is well despite your most recent afflictions?"

"Yes, we're fine. Joseph was much loved by our family."

"He was a good man and a fine sailor." The captain had been warned by her father not to tread near the subject of her son.

"The sea is a dangerous place," she said spitefully. The captain knew of her extreme dislike of the ocean.

"Indeed, it is," the captain agreed calmly, "but that is why so many people are drawn to it."

"Why is that?" she asked angrily. "Why do people risk their lives on the sea? It only hurts their loved ones in the end." One would think after five years she would have moved on, but her love for him had been too strong, and her son had been her small reminder of her devotion before he too disappeared.

"I'm not exactly sure of that myself," he mused. "Perhaps it's the prospect of freedom. When one looks out over the vast horizon of the open sea, it feels like you can sail on forever; free to do what you want. Although, I can't say it's the same for every sailor."

Meredith did not respond. She was not sure if she could with out crying her heart away. She felt that the price of that freedom—or, at least, the _feeling_ of freedom—was too great. Truly, she could not wait to be off the accursed ship.

The captain searched desperately for another route for this conversation, but he found that no matter what the direction, it would inevitably lead back to her late husband or son. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue the conversation if she so wished.

She inhaled sharply. "So, I heard there was some sort of war going on a few months ago, down in the Caribbean."

"Yes, indeed," he answered relieved. "The East India Trading Company was fighting the pirates down there." He did not dare mention who had won, though. He had heard that the East India Trading Company had been forced to retreat. That was indeed embarrassing for any self respecting captain working for said company.

"There was some nonsense about Davy Jones and the _Flying Dutchman_ working for the Company," she continued. "The _Black Pearl_ was there, supposedly. I don't know the details, but I've heard various rumors." The captain shrugged, hoping she would change the subject. He had many friends die in that battle, and it was still a sore spot for him.

Meredith suddenly remembered hearing "Mister Smith" mention the _Black Pearl_. "Do you know who captains the _Black Pearl_?" she asked. The captain started choking on the bite of meat he had just taken.

"Well," he started once his throat was clear, "no one really knows. I've heard that a man named Barbossa sails her while others say that the pirate Jack Sparrow is the man who truly owns her."

"Jack Sparrow," she repeated; another name that had been mentioned previously. Perhaps there was some sort of connection between "Mister Smith" and Jack Sparrow _and _the _Black Pearl._ Before she could say another word though, one of the crewmen came barging in.

"Captain, a ship's been spotted!"

"Colors?"

"She's not flyin' any," he said. "She doesn't need to. Her sails are black."

"Stay here!" he said with authority as he rose from the his seat to get out onto the deck.

Meredith had been stunned to silence. Black sails? Without thinking twice, she approached the window closest to her position. She peered out to see a ship flying no colors with black sails headed towards their ship. She inhaled sharply before turning away quickly. Her pulse was running at top speed and she felt her sweat drip down her face. After about twenty minutes of waiting for the oncoming battle, she let out a sigh of relief before she heard the firing of cannons.

"Richard!" she cried after the captain helplessly. Two cannonballs came ricocheting through the room. So sure that it would be safer outside the cabin, she ran outside only to stop dead in her tracks. The deck was in ruins as the men swarmed to the side of the ship with guns in hand to shoot down the pirates while others were below firing cannons. She saw Captain Bentley draw his sword from it's sheath. The ring of it's metal stinging her ears.

"Captain!" she cried. As he peered over in her direction, a swarm of grappling hooks came flying through the air. Before either of them knew it, the ship was being over run by pirates. Meredith was frozen to the spot, not sure what to do. She had no weapon, let alone the knowledge of how to use one. She was useless and completely vulnerable. With a quick turn she made a dash for the door, but her turn was too quick as she twisted her ankle and fell to the floor.

"'Ello poppet," said a menacing voice. She tried to back away from her oncoming attackers, looking for anything to fight with. She stood to run for it only to find herself between the two pirates leering at her and the railing of the ship, not to mention an aching ankle. She tried to lean away from them, as if she were waiting for someone to come and save her at the last moment, but the captain was currently preoccupied fighting off three burly pirates. He had no way of coming to her rescue. She found she couldn't lean any farther when she lost her balance and fell backwards into the blue ocean below.

* * *

He had been freed by a cannonball that had come ricocheting through the lock on his cell and had found his way to the deck. He had appeared just seconds before he saw the girl—Meredith?—lose her balance and fall over board. He noticed that the two pirates she had been backing away from were two pirates he knew, Pintel and Ragetti. He didn't like them very much (not that there were many people he liked very much), but found he had no choice but to give them his notice.

"Cap'n!" they both shouted excitedly when they saw him coming. They were certainly not expecting to find him on the ship they were attacking, but Captain Jack Sparrow was full of surprises. He quickly handed them his pistol, hat, and the like.

"Do not lose them!" he ordered as he jumped in the cold waters of the Bahamas to—once again—save a woman he didn't even know. One would think he would have learned his lesson by now. Without a second thought, he scooped her into his arms and brought her to the surface. He was thankful she didn't havea real heavy dress to weigh them both down. With help from the two pirates who had caused the mess in the first place, he managed to get back on board with her in his arms. He took his effects from said pirates and grabbed a rope with said girl still in his arms. He gave the girl to Ragetti. At first, the tall slender man was a bit perplexed by this action, until he heard Jack speak.

"Get her on board the _Pearl_," Jack ordered. Without hesitation, Ragetti clumsily swung over to the _Pearl_ with Meredith in his arms.

"Meredith!" Jack heard some one shout. Probably the captain, he readily ignored the cry and swung over to the opposing ship; _his_ ship, the _Black Pearl._ He landed gracefully on board the black deck of _his_ship. He released the rope to take Meredith back from Ragetti. He quickly checked to see if she was okay. Why he did that he wasn't sure. That was when he looked up to see the man he wanted to confront the least.

"Oh, _Jaack!_" said Barbossa in a sing-song voice. He eyed the girl in Jack's arms before looking back up to face his rival. "I believe you have something of mine."

"The girl? Hector, aren't you a little old for her?" Jack replied. Barbossa's eyes narrowed at him slightly. He should have expected something like that.

"Jack?" a hoarse whisper escaped the girl's lips. She opened her eyes to see the man who had saved her life.

"Welcome to the world of the living, love," he said. Suddenly, one of the men swung from the _Grand Duchess_ onto the deck of the _Black Pearl_.

"Unhand her you pirate!" he shouted. It was the captain. Jack turned to him and grinned.

"Why do all of you have to use those cliché sayings? Really they get annoying after awhile," he said with a fakingly irritated tone in his voice. He was enjoying this, actually. Meredith's face went pale when she overheard what he said he was. "Now," he said still addressing the captain, "if you would be so kind as to get off _my _ship: that would be lovely."

"_Your _ship?" cried Barbossa.

"You finally agree?" said Jack peering over at Barbossa for a swift moment.

"Richard!" Meredith cried as she felt Jack's grip around her waist tighten. The captain drew his sword and charged at Jack. Jack's things were wadded up in his right hand and his left hand was wrapped around her waist. Jack pulled her back as he avoided the captain's blow. He threw her to the two pirates who had followed him from the deck of the _Grand Duchess_. Jack pulled out his sword just in time to parry another blow from the captain. He quickly recovered and delivered a blow that was parried in return.

"Don't let her escape," Jack told the two pirates who grasped her with a firm grip. With a mighty swing, his sword met with the captain's steel blade. He was surprised by the amount of force his opponent had put behind his swing. Jack swiped upwards only to be parried by the captains downward thrust. Jack was surprised to see his sword still in his hand. As Jack brought his sword up to block another powerful blow, a gunshot rang through everyone's ears, more specifically, Meredith's ears. The captain fell to his knees, his eyes wide with pain. He covered the left side of his chest as it started to bleed. Meredith watched in horror as the captain was killed right before her eyes.

_No! Stay alive! You have to stay alive! Richard! Stay alive! For your children's sake! Please stay alive! _Barbossa blew on the smoking end of his gun as he looked at Jack. "I've had enough of this nonsense. We have more important matters to attend to."

"More important than a young man's life?!" she cried. Jack inwardly agreed that the young captain did not deserve to die as he did.

"Captain," said Ragetti, who was holding her left arm.

"Throw her in the brig," said Jack as he checked his belonging to be sure he had them all.

"What? You can't do that!" she cried as she struggled against her captors.

"I believe I can, since I am Captain of this ship, Miss Madison," he replied casually as he continued to check the pockets of his jacket.

"Jack!" she shouted as she was dragged below deck.

"That's Captain," he called after her, "as in, Captain Jack Sparrow!"

* * *

The brig was far worse then the deck of the ship. The deck of the ship stank of body odor, blood, sweat, and seawater, but the brig smelled far worse then any of that. The fact that her seasickness had returned did not help matters. So she felt sick and dirty, and it smelled of raw sewage in her cell. However, despite all that, she stood defiantly at the door to her cage.

The rest of the crew of the _Grand Duchess_, after learning of their captain's demise, had surrendered and were led down to the brig with Meredith. Abram was the only one who understood the reason behind her tenacity. She was upset over the fact that the captain had been so cruelly killed. Things like this happened a lot, but she didn't know that. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a small wooden cross. He held it in his fist as he said a silent prayer for everyone's sake, but more for their late captain.

The night had been awful for all of them. Meredith had curled up against the door to her cell to sleep while all the others sat or lay in uncomfortable positions. She woke up the next morning only to stand at the door to her cell and wait.

She felt tears well up from the sting of the rancid smell, but she viciously swiped them away. She glared at the door to the brig so that the next person who walked through the door would get the full brunt of her silent attack. Unfortunately for her, Jack was the one who came in to see her, and having endured plenty of people glaring hatefully at him, he brushed it off easily, and took her glare in stride.

"So, what do you think of her?" he asked. "You know, this sounds familiar. Dejá vu!"

"You lied to me," she said through gritted teeth.

"Hm?"

"Your name, Captain, you lied to me," she said. He was not sure how to respond to that. It was quite obvious that she was mad about being in the brig, but it seemed she had come to the conclusion that she was in here because they were pirates. It wasn't like pirates let their prisoners wander about, although she was not the type to have any knowledge on weaponry. In any case, he was surprised that she was more upset over him lying to her.

"Yes I did," he said. "If I had given out my name, you and I would not be here. The captain of your lovely vessel would have had me killed on sight, and you would have drowned when you fell off the ship. Savvy?"

She did not say anything more. She gripped the bars and seemed to focus on them. It almost seemed that the bars would bend with her will, the way she was staring at them, her sharp green eyes focused solely on the bars.

"So that's all you're mad about," he asked, "me lying to you?"

"No, I'm mad about everything," she hissed keeping the same focus as she looked up at him. "Being locked away here in the brig, having been kidnapped, seeing the captain of my ship killed before my eyes, all of it, I'm upset about all of it!"

"You're upset over his death?" He did not know why he was asking. Something about her piqued his interest. Perhaps he just wanted to know what made her tick. Her knuckles started turning white.

"He had a family to go back to!" She screamed. She knew the value of life, and that it should not be thrown away at a mere whim. She had experienced the pain of loss, and she could only imagine the look on his children's faces when they heard the news. "Three beautiful children who needed him and now he's gone!"

"Well, they still have their mother, don't they?"

"She died about two years ago! Now they're orphans!" Meredith felt her motherly instincts scratch at her mind with an uncontrollable desire to go and comfort those children.

"Well, I hear orphans make the best pirates," he said casually. How she was dying to reach through the bars and smack him. Her grip became even tighter and she began to tremble with the strain. Of all the things for him to say, that was probably the worst.

"How dare you!" she seethed. "How dare you say such a thing! This is all your fault! If you hadn't stowed aboard my ship, none of this would have happened!"

"And what makes you think things would have turned out any different? If I hadn't been there, you would be dead!" He found himself actually arguing back. Since when did he care what she thought?

"You could have saved him!" she cried, her voice cracking. "If you had just let me go, then he might have been spared. It's your fault he's dead!"

"He would have been killed anyway because I wasn't the one who-" he stopped realizing that if he didn't stop now, they might never stop. He cleared his throat and let the matter slide, hoping she would do the same.

"Besides," he continued, "shouldn't you be worried about your own well being? You're imprisoned aboard a pirate ship, doesn't that bother you at all? For all you know, we're planning to kill you." He spoke casually as he examined his finger nails while she was growing all the more furious.

"I don't care," she spat, slightly puzzled over the fact that he had let the issue drop so suddenly. "The sooner I die, the sooner I can be with my husband and son! In fact, why did you save me? It would have been fine letting me drown! Not to mention saving the trouble of killing me later."

Now that struck a cord, he was not sure why, but it did. "Ah, you got me there. Well, we're not going to kill you; otherwise, I would have indeed let you die back there. As to why I saved you, I'm not sure. Force of habit I suppose."

"What?"

"You are not the first damsel I've saved for no reason, and I have a bad feeling you won't be the last," he answered. "The last woman I saved actually tried to kill me later." _And succeeded._ "You'd think I'd have learned by now."

"I wouldn't kill you," she whispered. Her grip on the bars had slackened, but she did not release them. "I'm sure there is some one who cares about you and would hate to loose you."

Now that had him laughing. Some one caring about Captain Jack Sparrow?! He would certainly like to meet this insane person she was talking about.

"Ah! That was funny!" he wiped away a tear from his eye as he regained his composure. "Well, anyway, I have a question for you."

"What is it?"

"Be careful how you answer though," he said. "How you answer may determine your fate aboard my ship."

"What is it?"

"Can you cook?"

* * *

Needless to say, she had been a little caught off guard by the question. So much so that she was not sure how to respond at first. She replied that she did have some cooking experience, although not much. He had been glad to hear it and announced that she could be their cook, much to her dismay.

"The cook?" she said.

"Yes, would you rather we throw you over board?" he asked as he unlocked her cell. "We can do that to!" She glared at him but did not say anything. He turned to the rest of the crew who had been watching them the whole time.

"As for the rest of you, we could use some extra hands, what do say to joining my crew for the time being?" The crew considered this for a moment. They looked to Meredith for some small sign. She merely shrugged. They discussed it for a few moments longer. It would be more then likely that they would be killed and thrown over board if they did not join. With that in mind, Nate, their chosen spokesperson, summarized.

"We will join your crew," he said with a nod. Jack grinned. Abram did not look pleased with this decision.

"Good, good," he said as he unlocked their cell. They all looked to Meredith for her approval, as though she were their replacement for their captain. She nodded and they all walked out of the brig. Abram was the only one who hesitated. He looked at Meredith who nodded at him. He bowed to her before leaving. Meredith looked at Jack, waiting for him to show her the way. After Abram was out, he motioned for her to follow him. As they stepped down the wooden hallway, he peered back at her. She looked back at him.

"What?"

"I was just wondering, where were you and your lovely ship headed exactly?"

"It doesn't matter anymore," she muttered.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't, but I was just curious," he said with a shrug. She raised an eyebrow, but felt she had exhausted all of her rage, and was not willing to converse any longer. "So, where were you headed?" She let out an exasperated sigh.

"You're not going to let this drop, are you?" It was a statement rather then a question.

"Probably not."

"Fort Dallas," she said.

"Why were you headed there?"

"Pardon me, _Captain_," she said, "but I would like to keep my business _my_ business, if that is all right with you." He shrugged once more and opened the door to the galley.

"This is the Galley," he said as though he were showing her around a grand mansion. "Quite honestly, I'm not sure where everything is. I think Hector moved a couple of things around, so good luck." He really did know; he just wasn't sure he wanted to put up with her much longer. He spun on his heel and dashed out the door.

"Wait, this is your ship, isn't it? Don't you know any thing about your own ship?" she cried after him. He did not answer, just left her there. It did occur to her how odd it was that Jack proclaimed to be the Captain of this ship, and yet he had stowed away on her ship. She huffed in annoyance before taking a step forward, landing on the wrong foot in the wrong way. She hissed in pain as she dropped down to lean against the nearest table as she clutched at her throbbing ankle.

"What seems to be the problem with your ankle?" said a voice from the shadows. She looked up to see an older man, not much older then thirty years of age, step out to greet her with a beautiful smile. He had dirty blond hair and eyes of topaz.

"I twisted it," she said, not bothering to explain how.

"Have a seat and let me have a look," he said in a soothing voice that she couldn't help but obey. She sat down and watched as he carefully remove her shoe. "It doesn't look too bad, but I'm going to go ahead and wrap it," he said. His sultry voice constricted her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe. He pulled out some bandages and began winding around her ankle.

"Thank you," she said. He stopped and looked up at her, his topaz eyes ablaze.

"You're welcome," he replied before continuing his assignment.

"I'm Meredith Madison, by the way," she said.

"They call me Tuke," he said.

"Turkey?"

"No," he laughed. "Too-kay. My friends from my homeland used to call me that." She tilted her head in puzzlement.

"You look awfully European to me," she said. He didn't answer. It seemed like an awfully strange name to her, but she didn't question it. He finished wrapping her wound before touching tenderly.

"You have lovely little feet," he said with a gentle smile. She felt her cheeks go warm with a cherry red blush.

"Thank you," she said as she shoved her foot back into her shoe. She had never really thought of herself as pretty. She looked back at him, her emerald eyes meeting his topaz ones.

"S-so," she tried to start without stuttering, only to fail miserably, "are you the doctor aboard this vessel?"

"Well, no, not really, but I was a medicine man in the tribe I lived in before more Europeans came and took over everything," he said. "The first group of them that had come before had willing joined our tribe out of starvation. That's how I got my European heritage."

"Oh, okay," she muttered and looked away. "So does Tuke mean anything in your language?"

"Yes," he replied. "Translated into your language it means Free One, or Ocean Rider. Our tribe believed that the sea was a living, free creature and anyone who knew how to sail on her was truly a free man. It is also the name of the great spirit who rules over the sea." After hearing what his name meant, she was slightly disappointed. It seemed everyone here in the New World was somehow connected to the sea while she did everything in her power to stay disconnected.

Tuke saw the upset look in her eyes and grew concerned. "Is there something wrong?"

"My sister, husband, and son all died because of their love for the sea," she said, "which is why I dislike the sea so much."

"Well, if that's the case, my tribe would probably call you 'Sanko*,'" he said.

"What does that mean?"

"Land lover, or One who is Bonded."

"Sounds like an insult for some reason," she responded. "Somehow I feel like I am destined to be forever connected to the sea, no matter how much I wish to escape it."

"Perhaps you are destined to become a part of it," he said ominously.

"You mean I'll die in the sea?" she asked. He shrugged. "If so, I wouldn't mind, it's how my husband died."

"Well, anyway," he said trying to steer the conversation in another direction, "you think you can walk on it now without hurting yourself?" He asked as he looked down at her foot. Meredith carefully stood up and gently put some pressure on it.

"Yeah, I think I'll be okay," she said. "Um, do you know where everything is? The captain just left me here to fend for myself and I'm sure everyone is going to get hungry sooner or later."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," he said with a slight grin, "let me help you since you're injured. I don't know how to cook really, but with your guidance, I'll do what I can."

"Thank you."

* * *

Jack and Barbossa stared at each other for a few moments. Jack had noticed that Barbossa had repaired the damage left behind by the Kraken'sattack from over a year ago. New windows had been put in and a new door to the cabin. There were also some new furniture to decorate the room. All in all, it looked like nothing had happened to it. The furniture wasn't necessarily to Jack's liking, but he could live with it for the time being.

"So you fixed her up I see," he started.

"Jack, the charts, please," said Barbossa.

"The doors aren't French like I had planned, but they'll do for now," he continued. "The windows are nice."

"Jack!" Barbossa's voice was a little sharper. "Are you planning to find the fountain of youth?"

"Maybe," said Jack.

"How about we agree to work together to find it?" he said. Jack just shook his head.

"You and I both know that working together is impossible," he said as he walked around the room in a gallant manner, studying the room. Barbossa scowled.

"We can either keep fightin' until we kill each other," said Barbossa, "or we could work together until we get to the fountain, drink it, then get back to fightin'."

"Well, I wasn't planning on dieing before you," said Jack. "I am the younger of the two of us," Barbossa's scowl increased in rage, "but, for the sake of living a little longer, I'm wiling to try it. That, of course, means no mutinous behavior (think you can handle that?), no killing each other in our sleep, or involving the crew in our plans, etc. etc."

"So we have an accord?"

"Wait, I'm not finished," said Jack, "I just thought of some other things, no marooning, no stealing the charts or the ship, no-"

"Jack!" shouted Barbossa. "Do we have an accord?" Jack considered it a moment. As much as he didn't want to, he agreed that it would be better to just work together. Not to mention the prospect of living forever was on the line just standing here. Jack held out his hand.

"Agreed," he said.

"Agreed," Barbossa as he took Jack's hand and shook it. They quickly released it.

"So, I say we head to Fort Dallas," said Jack as he wiped his hand on his pants. Barbossa rolled his eyes at Jack's antics.

"Are you insane?" said Barbossa. He didn't use the normal emphasis a normal person would have used. He was not totally surprised by Jack's suggestion. "That place will be crawlin' with soldiers. It's called a Fort for a reason."

"I know that," said Jack.

"Then why are you suggesting that?"

"One, it's a good place to start, two, that's what the chart says, three, there's someone aboard this ship who was trying to get there any way." A pair of emerald eyes was what crossed Jack's mind as he pulled out the charts to show Barbossa.

"See Hector? Right there."

* * *

*Sanko: Sahn-koh

* * *

**Hey guys, those of you who are subbing and not reviewing, I'm going to beat you guys up! I need the support or I'll stop writing. Seriously! I mean it. Two reviews, anon. or not doesn't matter, or this WILL end here. Reviews get me more readers! Please Review! Could somebody go back and review for the last chapter?**

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